Blog Archives

The Abdominal Stretch, by Christopher Elieson

23/3/2018

I grabbed one of my students by the arm and pulled her forward.

“Time for a stretch, Kel” I said, stepping behind her.

I wrapped my left leg around her left leg and my right arm around her right arm, causing her to lean to her left, exposing her ribcage.

Squirming and tapping her free, bare foot on the mat, she cried, “Ow! Let me go!”

Looking down at her, I intoned, “Next time, young Filipina, show this old-time wrestler the proper respect!”

I threw her face-first onto the mat and glowered at the rest of my students

Gunshot, by Gordon Lawrie

23/3/2018

The shot rings out like a crack in the silent air.

We all hear it we run as fast as our legs can carry us you don't look round when someone's fired a gun this isn't the time for questions like panicked animals we charge off colliding with each other someone crashes into my shoulder I'm aware of someone else falling I can feel my heart pounding hear it in my head above the pounding feet and desperate breathing of those around me no time to stop just keep running till you've completed four laps and crossed the finish line.

And Thus It Goes On, by Fliss Zakaszewska

23/3/2018

Dave stamped his feet. “S’not fair! It’s not jolly-well cricket!” Jake nodded. “The bounders aren’t playing with a straight bat.” Terri secretly agreed with them.

But Mitch whined. “Non, non, non! It is you that is not fair!” Then he turned and pouted.

Terri was stuck piggy-in-the-middle. If she agreed with Mitch, the others said she was ‘only a girl and what did she know’, but if she sided with the big boys, Mitch called her a ‘jolly old English rotter’ (but in French).

And that, folks, is a summary of the Brexit negotiations, Easter 2018.

Emily, by Adam Smith

23/3/2018

John left the dance early to find Beth standing alone on the stairs outside.

"I couldn't go in," she said.

"I couldn't stay," he replied.

"They all act like nothing happened."

"Well, they don't know how to act. None of us do."

"Emily was my friend, John."

"I know. I liked her too. But she took a coward's way out."

"Don't you say that! You didn't know her."

"Okay. I'm sorry."

He walked her home and kissed her lightly, "I'm sorry."

She squeezed his hand, "I know. Thank you."

They married after high school and named their first child Emily.

Why I look like Santa Claus, by Johann Lux

22/3/2018

Friday night, I’m at Frank’s bar washing down Buffalo Wings with Boiler Makers.

Betsy, drunk and high on moonshine whiskey and locally grown pot takes the seat beside mine.

I buy Betsy a beer, which convinces her we should be more than friends.

Standing naked in an old cow pasture, Betsy grabed hold of a fence post as I approached her from behind. We were doing fine until Betsy touched a length of fence wire. The jolt of electricity that surged through us, put an instantaneous end to any further romantic inclinations and turned our hair a permanent bright white.

The Way She Said Goodbye, by Guy Fletcher

22/3/2018

The roses I laid by the roadside have withered now, blood-red to brown, crumbling in my hand like dreams.

Her death was news for a day or two, a smiling photograph for the world, hiding demons.

The last time I saw her never leaves my tortured thoughts. I tried to help but each person is an island; we barely know ourselves let alone anyone else.

She mounted her bicycle staring at me with the saddest eyes I have ever seen and waved with her cute little hand but the way she said goodbye tells me it was no accident.

Jack 'N The Boxer, by Adam Smith

21/3/2018

Jack ran down the street, barely ahead of the man who wanted to kill him. The rain was torrential. He turned sharply and flattened himself against a building.

The killer rounded the corner. Jack pounced. He brought his right fist down hard. The man's gun flew from his grasp.

They boxed a minute then got locked up, arms tangled. Jack head-butted the other man who backed away, stunned.

A kick to his crotch saw him crumple. A heel to his temple ended it. Jack retraced his steps. There was still a bag of jewels in a warehouse by the docks.

Escaping the Cold, by Grant Burger

20/3/2018

She served him breakfast. Eggs sunny side up. Bacon lean and crispy.

“Another damn freezing day.” He said.

The thanks I get. “Come the summer, you’ll be bitching about the heat.” She said over her shoulder.

“Nah. I won’t.” He replied. Through a mouthful of food.

He pecked her on the cheek. Said he might be home late.

She waited till the taxi arrived, before she turned off the heating and opened the windows.

“Another damn freezing day.” She laughed. Leaving the front door open behind her.

Later, she sipped a margarita and smiled as she pictured him arriving home.

Silence, by Reg Wulff

20/3/2018

It blanketed the world like a fresh snowfall. The wind no longer carried the carefree laughter of children playing outside on a warm summer’s day. Whispers of sweet nothings and secrets ceased. Shouts of joy and despair were muted for eternity.

Everyone and everything, all that was beautiful, kind and caring gone in a moment brought on by the insanity and hubris of man.

The king sat on his throw and smiled as the soft breeze dismantled him flake by flake. Better to be the King of Ashes for a minute than an equal among men for a lifetime.

The Worst Problem in the World Ever, by Adrian Slonaker

20/3/2018

Jackie's listening to Lesley Gore whilst the housekeeper cleans. Why must Mum and Dad be so mean? All that rubbish about saying no and crushing dreams. All Jackie's got are tears and lots of screams! The wall calendar suggests that Friday's the night of the dance, but will Jackie be going? Not a chance. She'll be stuck at home, angry and seething, with sobs and idle threats punctuating laboured breathing. (And if you ask Jackie, she's even worse off than poor Marge Guttman, who was offed by a mask in Halloween III).

Happy Birthday, by Adam Smith

20/3/2018

The darkness pressed upon my body like heavy water. I could not breathe without inhaling thick blackness. No sound came to me but for a deep-throated gurgle that was my own plea for release. An hour of this was enough to drive me insane, and I had endured half an eternity of this sleepless, muffled pitch. I had endured an agony beyond agonies.

But the day did come when it ended, when I was cast into the light, took my first breath of real air and cried for the sheer joy of new sensation. My birthday had arrived.

Defiance, by Randy Flohr

20/3/2018

That night they sat around the Old Mother and waited for her to decide. She was not their leader, but when she spoke they listened.

That night they decorated their rune-scarred skin with a palette of bright pigments and braided long white feathers in their hair. They shaped a single breath into a long note of melancholy and despair. All around the village these notes fused into a constant complex and perplexing song. To the slavers it sounded sweet, deaf as they were to its defiance.

After that night, their song was never heard again. But they were finally free.

The Summer of 2016, by Marjan Sierhuis

20/3/2018

It was warm the day she visited the nursing home. Actually, it was the summer of 2016 and one of the hottest days on record.

Inside the home the air conditioning had started to malfunction so, she escorted her mother to an outdoor terrace.

There they sat on chairs adorned with vibrantly colored cushions and welcomed soft breezes that delivered a delicious scent of blooms.

Timid eyes that still held a hint of a sparkle peeked out from under the brim of a large sun hat.

“Do I know you?” her mother asked quietly for the umpteenth time that day.

Enjoying Dessert, by Russell Conover

17/3/2018

“Who's ready for dessert?” Sandy asked, smiling.

“Ooh. Chocolate pudding!” Four-year-old Eli laughed with glee. As soon as his bowl was in front of him, he planted his face in it, laughing as soon as he rose up.

“Eli! What on Earth are you doing?” Sandy turned to her husband. “George! Please talk to our son about his manners.”

“I don't know, Sandy,” George replied. She frowned. George followed Eli's lead, going face-first into the chocolate goodness. Sandy gasped, and Eli squealed with glee.

“Come on, dear. Sometimes you have to act like a kid!”

Tenant, by Justin Wall

17/3/2018

My tenant and I used to be close, but then he invited The Stranger into my home.

I have no interest in the outside world, nor do I welcome any reminder of it.

Earlier on they informed me of their plans for the evening. My response to this was swift and just. I smiled politely, walked over and smashed a vase over The Stranger’s head.

It was only when The Stranger lay motionless on my floor that I noticed their jumper was a similar colour to my living room carpet. I must confess to approving of her taste in knitwear.

Consequences, by Marjan Sierhuis

16/3/2018

He grabbed a loaded gun off the kitchen counter, and the car keys out of her hand.

She told him to chill out, there was a logical explanation for her absence last night, and not to jump to any conclusions. And if he drove while angry he would have to accept the consequences.

There was a logical explanation for her absence last night she shouted at his retreating back and it had nothing to do with their therapist.

Come back so we can talk about it.

A funeral was held the following week. And he never did come back.

The Lamp Of Knowledge, by Sankar Chatterjee

16/3/2018

Hawking arrived at the gate of heaven. Einstein had been waiting on the other side.

Einstein: Almighty wanted to see both of us together.

Hawking: Just arrived, no time to relax?

Einstein: What’s time cosmically, anyway?

They sheepishly entered Almighty’s room. He gazed at them.

Einstein: Never questioned your authority, Sir. I strove to uncover universe’s karmic rules.

Hawking: I attempted to explain its very existence. Hoping success, I even declared that “…..we would [then] know the mind of God."

Almighty: Just wanted to thank you both for leaving behind the “lamp of knowledge” aglow for human’s curiosity and exploration.

Afraid, by J. J. Landry

16/3/2018

My hands tremble as I knock on the door. It’s the most afraid I’d been since that fateful night eighteen years ago.

He died in my arms when I missed my target, shooting him instead. It was the day of her birth.

The door opens, and my heart begins to pound. She must see it pulsating through my chest. How can she not?

I introduce myself as the guy who killed the father she never knew and expect her to slap me. Instead, she embraces me. I feel her forgiveness, and my plans for suicide fall away with my sins.

Briar Rose, by Guy Fletcher

16/3/2018

Melanie's ex-boss stood by her bedside, a tear rolling unchecked, then Melanie's husband entered.

"You bullied her," he began, "I wish you were in the coma. You were jealous of her beauty and joie de vive."

"I'm so sorry," she replied and hastily retreated.

She wondered if the poor young woman would ever wake like Briar Rose, finding her loving husband gazing into her eyes, but life was far from a fairy tale.

She stared at her reflection in the bus window, guilt consuming her soul, haunted by Melanie.

"Oh, what have I become?" she asked herself softly.

The Future Is Full of Broken Hearts, by Johann Lux

16/3/2018

One of the biggest mistakes a time traveler can make is falling in love.

I located Dwayne living in an Ohio farm house with Becky, circa 1963. After Becky left for work I entered the house, sat opposite Dwayne and poured myself a cup of coffee.

“I’m not going back”, Dwayne insisted.

“Go forward, you and Becky didn’t work out”, I shrugged.

“She’s pregnant. We plan on marrying” Dwayne said and reached for a kitchen knife.

“Read her obituary. You were never her husband. The inoculations we get make us sterile”, I sighed and transported Dwayne and myself to headquarters.

Free Fall, by Charles Boorman

16/3/2018

As she descended, Tina realised she’d been a fool.

Philip had never really loved her after all. But she had ignored all the signs. At the very latest, that brake problem on her car should have set off the alarm bells. Instead, infatuated as she was, she accepted his trivialising explanation and let him take her to bed.

And now this. No wonder the little swine was late getting to the aircraft this morning. But instead of taking an urgent phone call, he’d actually been fiddling with her parachute.

What a bastard, she thought. And then she hit the ground.

Best Served Cold, by Adam Smith

16/3/2018

Her eyes were so swollen she could barely see what she was doing.
She pulled two slices from the bag and slid them into the toaster.
Her split lip quivered.
She used to love doing this for him.
When the toast was done, she carefully spread peanut butter on each slice.
He called from the other room, "Where's my sandwich?"
She knew he was still angry.
Lately, he was always angry.
Next, the knife went into the jelly jar.
The knife was dirty but it didn't matter.
It would be the poison that killed him, not a few germs.

The Commute, by Roland Tye

16/3/2018

I used to take the bus. All those cold, weary faces. In the Land of Smiles I ride a dusty Honda Click. It hasn't rained in weeks. The way I weave in and out of the traffic would be illegal back home. Here the pickups and SUVs pay me no heed. They are elephants; I am a flea. A red oblong taxi full of Chinese tourists drifts towards me. I feel a flash of fear. Like when a diver sees a shark. I slow and it passes, belching black smoke into my smarting eyes. Its going to be hot again.

The Pretty Lights, by Christopher Elieson

16/3/2018

Oh, man, she thought, the wonders of God’s creation. Right here in Greenland.

Maricar stared out the window, enthralled by the strange lights that illuminated the sky.

They constantly changed colour, from light green to dark blue.

They resembled spotlights coming from somewhere over the hills. I wish I had my cellphone with me, she lamented, I would never have seen them in the Philippines.

A knock on her door. “Good night, Maricar,” called a female guard behind her.

Three more months before she could go back home, but at least she got a chance to see those wonderful lights.

Great Insight, by Fliss Zakaszewska

16/3/2018

Isabel carefully arranged the chocolates on a plate. “They’re Ferrero Rocher,” she announced grandly.

Charles was unimpressed as he continued to read his book.

Finally, she seemed satisfied with the presentation. “Would you like a chocolate, Charlie?” She held out the plate.

The five-year-old looked at the empty, scratched, green plastic plate, then at his four-year-old sister. “No thank you Isabel. I don’t like pretend chocolates. I only like real ones.”

“You’re no fun,” she snorted as she carefully picked up air between her fingers to feed one of her carefully-arranged ‘chocolates’ to the teddy bear.

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